


Only One Place They Call You One of Their Own

by torakowalski



Series: Who Says You Can't Go Home? [2]
Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-21
Updated: 2008-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-02 23:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torakowalski/pseuds/torakowalski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there is a wedding, a bubble machine and Spencer is certainly not dating Brendon Urie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only One Place They Call You One of Their Own

**Author's Note:**

> Written for harlequin_bands and with thanks to Nny for beta. Title from Bon Jovi's 'Who Says You Can't Go Home'.

Spencer has packed thirteen pairs of shoes, six shirts, seven pairs of boxers and one tie. He hasn't forgotten the tie. "I haven't forgotten my tie, Ryan," he tells the phone exasperatedly. "And if I did? They have tie stores in Vegas." He assumes they do. He's not sure he ever saw one, but back then he probably wasn't looking.

Ryan makes a dismissive noise. "Sure, the same ties everyone else will be wearing. My best man needs to look distinctive."

"And a tie bought from the Chicago branch of Macy's will do that?" He pauses, pulls the phone away from his ear long enough to glare at it. "I'm not wearing it around my head."

He doesn't need to see Ryan to know he's rolling his eyes. "That was one time, Spencer. And you looked hot."

"I looked like someone had stolen me from the 60s." That was Ryan's nineteenth birthday when he and Jon were first tentatively shuffling around each other and Ryan had wanted to prove how cool he was by having the biggest fucking birthday bash ever.

Spencer only remembers the head-tie and puking in the bushes some time before midnight, but obviously something happened at that party that worked for Jon.

"Your mom said to warn you that your dad'll be making a speech. Should I be worried?"

Spencer groans. He thinks it's awesome that his parents are getting so involved in Ryan's wedding, but God. Spencer's dad making a speech.

"Spencer?" Ryan asks. "Worried. Me. Should I be?"

"Nah," Spencer lies, crossing his fingers behind his back. "It'll be awesome. We burned that picture of us naked in the bath, right?"

From somewhere behind Ryan, Spencer hears a bark of laughter. He's not sure if it says more about him or more about Ryan that he never has _Ryan_ on speaker where anyone else can hear.

"We were six," Ryan yells, "There was a jello incident."

"Yeah, yeah." Jon's voice gets closer. "Whatever you say. Hey, Spence."

Spencer stops trying to stuff socks into the spaces between his shoes long enough to grin at the phone. Jon Walker has that effect on people; Tom calls it the power of his awesome, but only where Jon can't hear. "Hey, Jon."

"Can you put Tomrad on the line, dude? We have important bachelor party shit to discuss."

The next sock gets stuffed rather more harshly than it deserves. "Yeah, Tom's not home yet," Spencer says as mildly as he can.

There's a pause then Ryan says, "Isn't it like midnight there?"

"Yep." Spencer finds that he's twisting his tie ��" his one and only, exotic, _Chicago_ tie - around his hands, and makes himself stop.

"Where is-"

"He'll be home later," Spencer interrupts. "I'll get him to call you then. Now I gotta pack unless you want me walking you up the aisle naked."

Spencer hangs up on Jon saying, "No one walks Ryan up the aisle naked except for me."

***

Two hours later, Spencer's suitcase is packed and sitting by the front door. He's in bed but not asleep, lying awake and staring at the ceiling, when he hears keys jangling in the lock followed by explosive swearing and the sound of his suitcase skidding across the floor.

He smiles wryly at the ceiling.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Tom asks, pushing their bedroom door open and not bothering to check if Spencer is sleeping.

"Are you drunk?" Spencer counters.

Tom's silent for a minute then he drops his keys onto the dresser with a loud clatter. 'No," he says. "Would you notice?"

Spencer flicks on his bedside light so he can glare more effectively. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Tom looks washed out and exhausted in the sudden light. At least half of Spencer wants to reach out and touch him, soothe fingers over his face until his frown fades away. The rest of Spencer is tired and cross and kind of numb.

"Nothing," Tom says, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He starts to unbuckle his belt and his pants slide down to puddle around his ankles. Time was, Spencer knew every inch of Tom's body. Now there are fading bruises just below his knee that Spencer doesn't remember ever seeing. "All packed?"

Spencer rolls over so he's facing lying on his belly, blocking out the light with his pillow. "Yeah. You?" Tom isn't packed. Spencer knows that. They share a closet.

The bed dips under Tom's weight and there's the sigh that means he's stretching out, all long arms and flexing leg muscles.

"I'll pack in the morning. Won't take me a second."

"Right," Spencer not-agrees and they lie in silence for a while.

Tom's hours have been erratic lately and Spencer always works late. It's been more than a week since they were awake and in bed at the same time. Spencer considers seeing if Tom wants to take advantage of that but dismisses it before the idea even fully forms.

Something like loneliness flickers on the edge of Spencer's awareness, so he rolls over quickly, hoping to escape it by reaching out to splay his hand over Tom's belly. Tom's skin feels warm and familiar and unexpectedly a knot of tension slides out from under Spencer's sternum.

Tom's the one who picks Spencer up when he's defeated or exhausted or upset, even when it's Tom that's exhausting him.

Tom puts one arm around Spencer's shoulders and draws him close. He puts two fingers from the other hand under Spencer's chin and Spencer obediently tips his head up for a kiss. "Go to sleep," Tom says against his mouth.

Spencer nods, putting his head down on Tom's chest and closing his eyes. It feels good to give up on the day.

***

Their flight leaves at eleven the next morning, which wouldn't be a problem, if Tom had just done his fucking packing at any time except ten minutes before they needed to leave.

Spencer gets it okay, Tom is artistic, Tom is not good with details. Spencer grew up with Ryan Ross, he knows all about flighty artsy people. Ryan, though, will do something if reminded enough. Ryan just honestly forgets; Tom seems to be making a habit of wilfully ignoring Spencer's calm reminders.

The _Don't forget to pack! xox_ message that Spencer put on the fridge a week ago is still there, apparently untouched and he occupies himself with tearing it to shreds while he sits at the breakfast bar waiting for Tom to find the other half to the one pair of shoes that he apparently cannot travel without.

Spencer drops his mug into the sink, picks up his shoulder bag and stalks out into the hall. "Tom!" he calls. It's not that big an apartment, he's not sure where Tom can be looking now. "I'm leaving in two minutes." This is Ryan's wedding, Spencer isn't going to be late.

"Keep your pants on," Tom calls back. Spencer still can't tell from where.

It's almost like Spencer can feel the disconnect happening. It's like he's paused, waiting for someone to say something light and flirty in response, something like "How about if I take them off? That get you moving?" Except that he realises that it's him that should be saying it and he just… can't.

"_One_ minute!" he shouts instead.

"Okay," Tom says, strolling out into the hall like they've got all the time in the world. He's got his guitar and his second best camera in one hand and a badly zipped hold-all with some pink fabric poking out the side in the other. But he's got both shoes on now thank God ��" well, he's got two shoes on. Spencer isn't sure if they're the ones he was looking for but that's okay because Spencer doesn't care.

"Come on," Spencer says, grabbing his case and reaching for Tom's hold-all. Tom jerks it back out of his grip. It's how they always roll ��" Tom can't quite get used to the fact that Spencer isn't the slight kid he was when they started living together ��" but today it feels more abrupt, like Tom might actually mean the glare he gives Spencer.

They drive to O'Hare right in the middle of rush hour traffic. Spencer factored that into their plans so they're still okay for time but that doesn't help Spencer sit still when he's thrumming from lack of sleep and the excitement of getting to see Ryan.

"Dude," Tom says at least, putting his hand over Spencer's where he's drumming too fast on the steering wheel.

"Sorry," Spencer says, doing his best to stop. They lapse back into silence.

At the next set of lights, Spencer looks up to catch the tail end of Tom's glare. "What?" he asks, stilling his fingers again ��" oh. He presses his nails into his palms and cranks his window wider open. "Sorry."

They have a rule that passenger controls the radio which isn't normally a problem. They like the same kinds of music and all the big drives they've done together ��" Chicago to Vegas the first Christmas after Spencer moved north; Route 66 the summer Tom graduated, stopping to take pictures whenever Tom wanted ��" have mostly been more about comfortable chatting or companionable silence than what's playing on the radio.

But today, for reasons unknown, Tom is listening to some kind of classic station even though he knows that classical music makes Spencer want to crawl out of his own skin.

Spencer starts tapping his thumbnail on the dashboard deliberately a-rhythmically. He's aware that he's doing it this time.

"Fucking stop it," Tom snaps at last. He doesn't cover Spencer's hand with his own like Spencer had maybe been trying to get him to do; instead he smacks it down, hard enough to sting.

Spencer sits up abruptly, adrenaline spiking for a second before he processes _Tom_ and lets it simmer out. They don't talk for the rest of the journey.

In the end, nothing really tips the balance. They make it through check-in and security without any more sniping at each other or anyone who works there. Their flight leaves on time and they get seats together.

But something isn't right.

Scratch that: nothing is right.

Tom's staring straight ahead, watching the tiny TV in the back of the seat in front, even though it only seems to be showing the Weather Channel, even though they didn't buy headsets. Sunlight is shining powerfully in through the window to Tom's right, highlighting freckles all down his nose and making his hair glow gold.

Spencer doesn't want to touch. Spencer doesn't want anything at all.

Spencer doesn't know he's going to say anything until he does. "Tom." He doesn't recognise his own voice. He sounds like he's been drinking glass. "I can't do this."

Tom's face washes white. He licks his bottom lip and shakes his head. It takes him a beat then another to turn around. "Me either." He doesn't sound any better than Spencer. "I'm sorry."

Spencer swallows, nods, doesn't know what to say. "Okay," he finally manages.

"Yeah," Tom says and turns towards the window.

***

Spencer hasn't seen Ryan and Jon in nearly four months and no amount of breaking up with Tom (oh God, he just _broke up with Tom_) is going to ruin that.

It's easy to spot them. They're standing together in Arrivals, curved around each others' spaces in that way they have that makes it totally obvious that they're together without them even needing to touch.

Ryan's face cracks into a wide grin when he sees Spencer and he touches Jon's arm before hurrying forwards.

"Hey!" he says, throwing his arms around Spencer's neck. Spencer drops his bags and hugs Ryan back as tight as he can. Ryan oofs in surprise but doesn't pull away, just lets Spencer cling.

Spencer only gives himself one minute of holding on, but it still helps to ground him. "Hi,," he says in a voice that impresses himself with its normality. "What the fuck are you wearing?"

Last time Spencer saw Ryan, he was sporting tiny vests and ridiculously elaborate scarves knotted around his neck even though it was mid-summer. Now he's wearing boy-cut jeans (this is worthy of comment okay, Spencer hasn't seen Ryan in boy jeans since they got out of their skaterboy phase. Of course, Spencer hasn't worn them since then either, but he's busy mocking Ryan right now), a brown t-shirt with a seriously low v-neck and a whole collection of beads around his neck and wrists.

He looks pretty awesome but Spencer isn't going to admit that.

"Suck it up," Ryan says, bumping his knuckles against Spencer's arm. "You think I look awesome."

Fucker.

Next to them, Tom and Jon are having a similar reunion. When Jon steps away from Tom and toward Spencer, Spencer has a second of irrational panic where he wonders if he's allowed to keep Jon now that he's-. Now he doesn't have Tom any more.

Then he rolls his eyes at himself and returns Jon's hug.

"All right," Jon says. He waits for them to pick up their luggage then leads everyone towards the doors. "Let's get you kids out of here. You have the wedding of the century to prepare for."

Ryan rolls his eyes but his smile is warm and happy and Spencer suddenly can't breathe.

"Ry?" Spencer asks. He drops back a step and catches Ryan's wrist. "Can we get a cab?" He knows he's being a coward but if he's going to be spending the next few days living with Tom amongst Ryan and Jon's RyanandJon-ness, he needs some space to clear his head first.

Ryan opens his mouth, presumably to argue or ask what the hell, but Tom gets in first. "No, we will," he says, not meeting Spencer's eye. He puts his hand on Jon's arm and Spencer can already see where battle lines are being drawn. "Jonny's got to show me his new studio anyway, right?"

Jon looks between them and scratches at his shoulder. "Yeah, sure," he says, not sounding sure at all.

Tom's smile is weak and it probably matches Spencer's. "All right. You'll be okay with the bags, Spence, right?"

"Fine," Spencer says, wincing when it comes out like a snap.

"Okay then," Jon says. "We'll see you at home then?" He raises his eyebrows at Ryan and Ryan makes a befuddled face back. Spencer pretends not to notice.

Ryan lets Spencer stay silent on the walk out to the short-stay parking. Spencer lets his and Tom's bags bang against his knees and pretends that that's what's causing the pain circling around in his stomach.

The inside of Ryan's car smells like pot and leaking ink pens. It's enough to make Spencer smile; all the time he's been away, those smells have made him think of Jon and Ryan.

Ryan puts the key in the ignition but doesn't try to start it. "So what's happened?" he asks.

"We, um." The sun's in Spencer's eyes so he pulls the visor down, loses some time fiddling with it. "We broke up?" He doesn't mean to put the question mark there. They broke up. Period.

"Shit," Ryan says quietly. "For real? I mean, for good?"

Spencer swallows. "I think so." His voice comes out so thick and raw that it's embarrassing.

"Fuck." Ryan reaches across the handbrake and squeezes Spencer's hand. "When?"

Spencer laughs. It hurts his throat. "Like an hour ago?"

"Fuck," Ryan says again. His fingers force their way between Spencer's and the feel of his long, thin fingers against Spencer's flight-clammy palm makes something crack inside of Spencer. He turns his face away and blinks hard.

"I didn't even know you guys were in trouble." Ryan sounds sad and guilty, so Spencer shakes his head.

"It. I didn't. If I'd told you, it would have been real."

Ryan doesn't say anything, just squeezes his hand again.

Spencer wants to sit here until he feels like he can breathe again, wants to see if Ryan can soak up all his woes for him, but can't. He forces himself around so he can smile at Ryan instead. "Come on," he forces out, "Wedding of the year, apparently."

Ryan looks at him closely and Spencer holds his breath, praying Ryan won't ask if he's sure he's up to it or anything like that. Spencer _isn't_ sure he's up to it, but he's doing it anyway. Ryan and Jon's wedding is way more important than his own stupid relationship shit.

"Seriously," Spencer says, "Come on."

"Okay." Ryan carefully disentangles their fingers. "Love you," he says, almost covering it with a turn of the ignition key.

Spencer looks out the window and blinks hard. "Shut up."

***

Ryan and Jon bought their house with the money Ryan got from selling his dad's house after he died, so it's way nicer than two kids just out of college should be able to afford. It's closer to the Strip than Ryan and Spencer grew up but still far enough back into the suburbs that it's quiet most of the time.

They have a lawn and go to neighbourhood meetings and get their trash collected every Thursday. Spencer has spent a lot of time making fun of their middle-aged suburban-ness but he's not going to deny that it's always soothing to visit them.

Ryan pulls up onto the drive without hitting the bushes on one side or the wall on the other which means he's been practising. Spencer gets the bags out of the boot and they go inside, where Spencer is greeted by a slobbering, excited Hobo and condescendingly interested cats.

"Guys," Ryan says, clapping his hands. "Give Uncle Spencer some space." They ignore him and Spencer rolls his eyes; he's long since gotten used to being 'uncle' to Ryan and Jon's zoo. They're either going to adopt a million Cambodian kids or become crazy animal people before they're thirty, Spencer is sure.

He puts his bags down in the hallway because they only have one spare room and Spencer isn't going to think about that now. He's barely slept one night that wasn't next to Tom in four years… but he isn't going to think about that, either.

***

Ryan gets him an iced tea and they sit on the sofa and don't talk about anything except to mock everything that comes on TV. No one can bitch as well as Ryan and Spencer together.

The sound of keys in the door makes Spencer jump although he's not sure why. He's been keyed up, expecting Tom and Jon almost since he got here. He hears quiet voices in the hallway and Ryan reaches over to touch his knee.

Spencer shoots him his best _I'm fine smile_ and Ryan gives him back a _yeah, right_ eye roll.

The door swings open but it's Jon, only Jon.

He stops in the doorway and looks at Spencer. Spencer holds his breath.

"Hey you," Jon says, softly, "Come here."

Spencer staggers up from the sofa and accepts Jon's hug gratefully. He's more relieved than he wants to admit, because Jon might have been his friend before he even knew Tom Conrad existed but Tom has been Jon's best friend for years.

It's dangerous, Spencer thinks, Ryan and Jon being so good to him. He doesn't know how he's supposed to hold himself together in the face of that.

***

"Look guys," Jon starts later, sounding hesitant. It's a couple of hours before people will start arriving for the bachelor party and they've all accidentally found themselves in the kitchen. "Do we need to change anything in the wedding?"

Spencer's standing up for Ryan and Tom's standing up for Jon. It's been arranged forever.

"No," Spencer and Tom say at the same time. Spencer looks across at him but Tom drops his gaze when their eyes meet. "We'll be fine. We still love you guys," Tom says to his toes.

The tacit implication that they don't love _each other_ any more feels kind of like a knife going into Spencer's stomach. He makes himself nod anyway because yeah, he agrees.

"Okay," Ryan says, looking relieved. He looks at Jon for a minute before nodding and saying hesitantly, "And sleeping arrangements?"

"I'll take the sofa," Spencer says immediately.

Tom shakes his head. "No, I will."

"Tom - "

"Fucking let me, okay." Tom doesn't snap but something in his tone still says _don't fight me on this one_. "Let me do one nice thing for you."

Spencer nods once, before turning away to get something from the nearest cupboard. When the open door is shielding him from the rest of the kitchen, he can't remember what he was looking for.

***

Spencer vividly remembers the night that Ryan and Jon called to tell them they were getting married. They'd been ridiculous and giggly and clearly so fucking happy that when Spencer and Tom had come off the line they'd celebrated like it was them who'd gotten engaged.

Spencer never imagined that he'd feel this shitty at their bachelor party.

Jon promised he could skip if he wanted to but Ryan is so happy and excited that Spencer just can't do that to him. Spencer takes a glass of champagne from the first tray he finds and does his best to look like an enthusiastic guest.

He recognises a couple of people here. There's a girl with pink hair standing by the salad bar who he's pretty certain Ryan dated in high school and their middle school friend Trevor is attempting some kind of dance move out on the grass but Spencer hasn't lived in Vegas for four years and he doesn't know most of Ryan's friends.

Then, of course, there's also his family.

"Spencer!" his mom calls, appearing behind him with his sisters in tow. Spencer hurriedly puts down his glass. He might be a grown-up now but it's still weird to have his parents watch him drink.

She kisses his cheek and puts her arms around him. "Ryan told us about you and Tom," she says softly into his ear. "We're so sorry, darling."

Spencer nods and lets go of her as soon as she'll let him. "Where's Dad?"

Crystal giggles. "He's cornered Shane to talk cameras again. I think he thinks he's going to be the next Spielberg."

Spencer opens his mouth to ask who Shane is when he notices that Jackie's watching Tom from across the room. Spencer rolls his eyes at her. "Why don't you go say hey?"

She folds her arms and glares. "I don't want to say hey," she says scornfully. "I'm plotting the best way to kick him in the nuts."

Spencer's laugh is so unexpected that he chokes on it. "Jackie!" their mom scolds while Spencer's still getting his breath back.

She blushes but stands her ground. "What?"

Spencer doesn't say anything, just musses her hair. She yelps and kicks him and he gets briefly distracted by trying to tickle her.

"Hey Spencer Smith," Jon says, swinging around to their side of the garden, "There will be no killing of the beautiful Miss Jacqueline in my house."

Jackie goes pink when Jon looks directly at her which makes Spencer laugh again. He always forgets how much his family even cheer him up until they do.

"Jon," Spencer's mom says. "Where's Ryan? We have something for you."

"Ginger," Jon starts, ducking his head, but Spencer's mom clucks at him and takes his arm. "Is he over here? Good. Come on, girls."

Spencer watches them go but doesn't follow. He doesn't know what his parents are giving Jon and Ryan but he suspects it'll be something big and he knows that Ryan won't want anyone to see him get all choked up.

He scans the room, not looking for Tom, but finding him anyway. He's standing by the tiny stage that's been set up in the corner for the band they've hired. There's a drink in his hand and he's chatting to a small guy with a mass of curls and a guitar strapped to his back.

Spencer turns around, looking for his glass. He finds it, drains it and goes looking for a fresh drink.

In hindsight, Spencer should maybe have stopped before his fourth glass. He's never been able to hold his champagne, which has led to a lot of giggly, drunk sex after the silly, snobby parties that Tom sometimes has to go to in Chicago.

He's starting to feel kind of sick so he goes to find himself a beer instead.

What he finds is a Ryan. He's talking to a tall girl in a tiny skirt and kickass boots but he totally abandons her when he sees Spencer, throwing his arms around Spencer's neck and cuddling up to his side. "Spencer, where have you been, I missed you," he says totally sincerely.

The ground is lurching nastily under Spencer's feet. "Ry?" he asks, making sure he doesn't slur. "Are you high?"

Ryan makes a guilty face and puts a finger over Spencer's lips. He leans in to whisper, "I'm allowed to be high at my bachelor party, Jon says."

Spencer nods. "And Jon knows his shit."

Ryan doesn't answer, just smiles, the one that Spencer privately thinks of as his Jon smile. It's the smile that's always brought home to Spencer that he feels love differently from the way Ryan does. Now he's starting to wonder if he's just been feeling it wrong.

Spencer switches his grip on Ryan, not totally sure who's holding who up. "Come find alcohol with me?"

The look Ryan gives him is too shrewd for someone who's been smoking the kind of shit that Jon can always supply, but luckily he gets distracted by something shiny or something because it doesn't last. "What?"

Spencer rolls his eyes. "The decent alcohol, where is it?"

Ryan waves his arms around. "Champagne and punch and, and things, everywhere."

"Beer," Spencer says clearly. "Please."

Ryan shakes his head. Then nods. Then shakes it again. "Kitchen," he says at last.

"Awesome." Spencer pats his arm. "Go find Jon, yeah?

Ryan smiles. "He's marrying me."

"He totally is," Spencer agrees. "Not tonight though."

Ryan shakes his head. "Not tonight." He wraps himself around Spencer for a second. "I'm glad you're home, Spence," he says before stumbling away in a Jon-ward direction.

Spencer takes a deep breath. Beer, right. He heads for the kitchen.

***

The kitchen is at the back of the house, separated from the garden by a screen door that gives Spencer nightmares about burglars and serial killers but doesn't seem to bother Ryan or Jon enough to do anything about it.

Spencer gets within two foot of the screen when a voice carries out from the kitchen and stops him.

Tom.

One of the slats is wonky and Spencer finds himself using it to peek into the kitchen.

Spencer doesn't mean to spy or anything, he'd just like to know who Tom's talking to before he risks going in there. Tom's kind of a flirt when he's drunk and normally Spencer's fine with that but right now he doesn't think he can listen to it.

It doesn't occur to him to doubt that Tom's drunk.

Tom's standing by the sink, leaning back so his elbows rest on the counter. His hair's in his eyes and his shirt has risen up to reveal a stretch of tanned stomach and the line of hair leading down into his pants.

Spencer licks his lips. Break-up sex, he thinks dumbly, they need to be having break-up sex right now. Except then he tunes into what Tom's saying and wait, what?

"Yeah, that's Spencer," he says and Spencer thinks for a second that he's been caught but no, they're. They're talking about him? "He's my boyfriend."

_Not any more_, Spencer thinks, unconsciously wrapping an arm around his chest, curling one hand around the opposite bicep.

The guy he's talking to goes red. "Oh fuck," he says. "Shit man I didn't mean…"

Tom laughs, shaking his head. "Ex-boyfriend, I meant." His eyes scan down the guy's body in a way that makes Spencer's belly roll over.

The guy is all dark hair and eyes and pale, pale skin. He's small and slim and squeezed into the tightest pair of jeans and smallest black shirt that Spencer's seen since his scene days. He looks like Spencer did when Tom first met him.

"He'd probably go for you," Tom slurs lazily. He laughs again and Spencer wants to yell at him, ask what the fuck he's doing and tell him to stop. Something flashes in Tom's eyes. "Tell you what, $100 if you can get him to fuck you."

Spencer's going to puke. Or cry. He hopes he doesn't cry.

"You-" Spencer hears the other guy start to say but just then someone taps Spencer on the shoulder.

"We're going," Crystal tells him. She makes a face. "Mom says it's past Jac's bedtime."

"Okay," Spencer says distractedly. He wants to hear what's happening in the kitchen now. "See you soon."

She narrows her eyes at him then giggles. "You're wasted. I'm so telling mom."

He sticks his tongue out. Some things are automatic even when your heart is breaking. "Get lost."

She punches him in the arm and runs away. Spencer rubs his arm absently while he turns back to the kitchen.

Tom and the other guy are laughing.

Spencer feels sick, hot with embarrassment and he doesn't think before he shoves the door open and marches into the room. "Hey," he says to the guy beside Tom. "Do you want a drink?"

"Um," the guy says. His gaze goes to Tom then back to Spencer. "Sure?"

Spencer moves around Tom like he isn't even there, going to the fridge and pulling out two bottles of Jon's best microbrew.

By the time he's turned around, Tom has disappeared. He holds out one of the bottles and makes his best approximation of a smile. "I'm Spencer."

The guy nods. "Yeah I know. I was just talking to your boyfriend."

Spencer doesn't say anything and after a second, the guy bounces on his toes a little and says, "Oh, sorry, I'm Brendon." He holds out his hand, which is incongruous enough that Spencer automatically takes it.

_Tom's a cunt_, Spencer wants to say or _and so are you for making bets about me_, but he doesn't. He takes a gulp of his beer and tunes back in to hear the guy… hear _Brendon_ say something about the band that was playing earlier. "Did you hear them?"

"Sure," Spencer says, shrugging.

Brendon smiles. "My roommate's cousin Ian is their guitarist. He was awesome, right?"

Spencer isn't sure he was listening. He flashes back on watching Tom chat up a guy with a guitar strapped to his back though and manages a nod.

Brendon beams at him. "They let me sing with them sometimes."

"Awesome," Spencer says. Now he's got Brendon here, he's not totally sure what's supposed to happen next. Mostly, he just wants to rip off Tom's arm and smack him in the face with it.

Failing that though… A really bad idea occurs to Spencer. A _really_ bad one.

Spencer looks Brendon over. He's not Spencer's usual type, but he's plenty hot. And Tom already thinks Spencer would do him, apparently, so why the fuck not.

He isn't thinking about how much Tom hates to lose a bet. He isn't.

Spencer drains the rest of his beer and tries to put the bottle down. It misses the counter the first time and yeah, maybe it wasn't such a great idea. His vision's kind of blurry. "You want to get out of here?"

Brendon breaks off in the middle of whatever he was just saying. "Uh. I was just talking to your boyfriend?"

Spencer swallows. "We broke up." It doesn't even burn so much this time. Either Spencer's getting used to it or he's even drunker than he thought.

Brendon is frowning at him and Spencer realises with a flush of embarrassment that he's probably doing this all wrong. He's never tried to pick up a one night stand before.

"I don't know, man," Brendon says. He puts his hands on Spencer's arms. "You want me to just walk you home?"

Spencer shakes his head. This isn't… He doesn't know what he wants. He pushes forward a little bit, out of his personal space and into Brendon's. Brendon makes a sound when Spencer kisses him but his hands tighten on Spencer's biceps and that is good enough for Spencer.

They stumble a little when Spencer tries to readjust his feet so he can press closer, but Brendon steadies him and then it's fast, messy kisses traded against Ryan and Jon's kitchen counter.

Spencer's getting hard. He can feel his cock swell and fill against the inside of his zipper and he rubs against Brendon's hip automatically.

Brendon tears his mouth away from Spencer's and stares at him with hot, dark eyes. "Fuck it," he says breathlessly. Then, "Do you live near here?"

Spencer laughs. It's harsh and rough and he doesn't recognise it. "I live _here_, dude."

Brendon frowns then his eyes go wide. "Oh," he says, "You're _Spencer_." That makes no sense, Spencer thinks blankly. He just told Brendon that. But he nods anyway.

"Totally Spencer," he agrees. Without his permission, his fingers try to work their way under Brendon's t-shirt. They fail because Brendon's t-shirt is apparently particularly evil and tricksy but Brendon laughs, dancing back a step and catching Spencer's hand.

"Guest room?" he asks.

Spencer nods. He means to lead Brendon there but Brendon seems to know his own way, and then they're slamming the bedroom door closed behind them, Spencer's hands on Brendon's ass while Brendon is fumbling with the bolt, locking them in.

"Naked," Brendon says, turning around and already stripping off his shirt.

Spencer's shirt is tricksy too, it turns out, but luckily Brendon has already lost all his clothes and he's there to help Spencer out of his. Spencer tries to say thank you and just ends up moaning when Brendon slides down onto his knees and licks Spencer's cock into his mouth.

"Shit," Spencer says, banging his head back against the wall. No one but Tom has ever done this for him and it's weird how different it feels. Brendon licks and sucks in a totally off-beat rhythm that drives Spencer mad while driving him mad. He scrapes his teeth over the head until Spencer's almost sobbing with need and then he pulls away, drops down onto his ass and grins cheekily up at Spencer.

"I want you to fuck me," he says easily, like it's no big deal.

Spencer's orgasm takes him completely by surprise and his knees give way as his orgasm crashes through him. He ends up on his knees, practically on Brendon's lap.

Brendon's eyes go wide and Spencer knows he's blushing even if he can't really feel it. "Shit," they both say but in totally different tones.

"Fuck," Spencer adds. He turns away, reaching for his t-shirt, wanting to clear up and get out of here, feeling suddenly ridiculous and dirty but Brendon stops him with soft, calloused fingers against his wrist.

"Hey," he says, "That was hella hot." He climbs up onto Spencer's thighs and kisses him. "Can you go again?"

Spencer thinks about it but fuck he's had a _lot_ to drink. He shakes his head.

Brendon just kisses him again. He's holding onto Spencer's shoulders and Spencer finds that his hands are running all over Brendon's body. It's weird to feel someone else in his arms, someone whose skin he doesn't know by heart. He can't stop touching.

"You can fuck me," he hears himself say. His breath cuts out just as Brendon's does.

"Seriously?" Brendon asks, pulling himself up so he can look down at Spencer. "Shit. Fuck. Yes, come on, get on the bed."

Spencer's head is spinning from the his orgasm ��" and the alcohol and the fucking day he's just had ��" but he manages to follow Brendon up, spread himself out for Brendon's viewing pleasure.

"Hot," Brendon whispers and Spencer thinks that he must have lost some time because he blinks and then Brendon is lining himself up and Spencer feels slick between his legs.

He almost says wait or stop but all he can hear is Tom's laughter when he told Brendon that Spencer would probably sleep with him and he can't- he's so fucking angry.

"Hey," Brendon says, face suddenly inches above Spencer's. "You okay?"

Spencer's eyes are stinging. "Fine," he grits out.

Brendon tries to shift backwards but Spencer grabs him, holds him still. "Am I hurting you?"

Spencer shakes his head. "Please," he says and it sounds weak and pathetic to his own ears but all Brendon does is kiss him.

"Okay," Brendon whispers, "Okay." His hips start to move, slowly and considerately, getting Spencer used to it. "Dude, you're all kinds of fucked up, huh?"

Spencer arches up into Brendon's next thrust and doesn't answer.

***

The next morning, Spencer wakes up alone, stiff and sore and already retching. He stumbles out to the bathroom and stays in there until he hears sounds from the rest of the house.

It's not until he's standing at the sink, shakily rinsing out his mouth that he notices the smudged scrawl of numbers running down his arm.

He doesn't remember Brendon leaving last night and he means to wash the pen away in the shower, but instead he finds himself searching around the room until he finds one of Ryan's old eyeliner pencils, discarded and forgotten at the back of the medicine cabinet, and using it to copy down the numbers onto a piece of tissue. He folds it up under his discarded t-shirt so it can't get ruined by the shower's steam.

When he finally makes it downstairs, his stomach has settled but his head is pounding. He concentrates on that rather than on the hot ball of embarrassment that's slipsliding up and down his spine.

"Morning," Jon greets him. Ryan has his face down on the kitchen table and just waves vaguely.

Spencer doesn't ��" can't ��" meet Tom's eyes so he just slides into the seat next to Ryan and puts his head down beside his.

Ryan tips his head to the side. "Nrugh," he whispers.

Spencer closes his eyes. The combination of their hair falling over their own and each others' faces is enough to make him feel safe and hidden from the world. "Yeah," he agrees.

Something hot and smooth bumps his arm and he fumbles blindly for the mug, looking up to thank Jon, only to find that it's Tom standing over him, eyebrows raised in rough amusement.

Regret is the first emotion to flash through Spencer, but last night's anger comes quickly on its heels. "Thanks," he gets out. He concentrates on the sweet, life-giving coffee so that he doesn't have to say anything else.

"Have fun?" Tom asks. There's something sharp in his voice and when Spencer looks up, he sees that Tom's eyes are fixed on Spencer's arm, on the place where faint, black numbers are still just visible.

Spencer tugs his sleeve down and doesn't look around to see if Ryan or Jon have noticed.

"I guess," he says airily. "You?"

"Me?" Tom smiles tightly. "Yeah man, I had tons of fun."

"Okay." Jon stands up, yawning and stretches his arms over his head. "I've gotta get to work."

Ryan's head lifts an inch or two from the table. "Today?"

Jon runs his fingers along the exposed line of Ryan's neck. "Hey, someone's got to keep you in pretty scarves."

Ryan flips him off then goes back to moaning weakly at the table.

"You two got any plans?" Jon asks Spencer and Tom. He says 'you two' like they're still a them, still a couple. It doesn't help Spencer's headache.

"Yeah, maybe," Tom says. "I got talking to this kid, Ian, at your party, said I might look him up today."

"Spence?" Jon asks.

Spencer fingers the numbers under his sleeve and nods slowly. "Maybe," he says.

***

Spencer isn't proud of himself but he ends up calling Brendon a couple of hours later. He's sitting in the living room and he knows Tom can hear him.

"Hello?" Brendon's voice answers after the forth ring. He sounds bright and chirpy and for a second, Spencer isn't sure what he's doing.

"Hey, Brendon?" Spencer knows it's Brendon so he doesn't wait for a reply. "It's Spencer Smith. From last night?"

Watching Tom out of the corner of his eye, Spencer sees his shoulders go tense.

"Hi, Spencer from last night," Brendon says. There's a radio blasting the in background and a droning sound that Spencer can't place. "I thought you'd still be sleeping it off, dude."

Spencer forces himself to laugh. "Yeah, no," he says. "I'm fine." Fine is maybe pushing it. "Listen, did you maybe want to meet up today?"

"Oh man, I can't," Brendon says immediately. Spencer was already feeling like an idiot, now he feels like a tool. "I'm working."

"Right," Spencer swallows. He maybe didn't think this through. The point of this exercise was _not_ for Tom to see him crash and burn. The point was to get back at Tom for being an asshole and to show him that Spencer isn't sitting around pining for him. "Okay that's-"

"But later?" Brendon says. "My last appointment's at seven so we could meet at like, eight? If you want?"

Spencer wasn't really planning on making a date out of this. He thought he'd pop out for a couple of hours, hang with Brendon, and… well, he isn't sure what the next step was.

Meeting up in the evening is a date.

"Okay," he hears himself say. "Pick me up?"

***

Brendon smells of chemicals when he arrives to collect Spencer and his fingers are dyed blue.

"Sorry," he says, fiddling with the edge of his green Stones shirt. He's wearing tight indigo jeans and flip-flops and Spencer feels overdressed in his button-down but swings his arms like he's comfortable anyway. "My last appointment ran over. It was keep you waiting or turn up here smelling like dye. I figured if I smelt too bad you could just stand upwind of me."

Spencer doesn't mean to smile. "What do you do?" he asks, following Brendon down the path to his car. He feels like there are eyes on his back but that's probably his imagination.

Brendon stops at his car and opens the door for Spencer. Spencer brushes past him as he gets in, wondering why he suddenly feels so nervous.

"I," Brendon tells him grandly, slipping into the driver's seat. "Am a cosmetogist." Spencer blinks at him and Brendon laughs. "Hairdresser. Only way cooler."

"Right." Spencer looks Brendon over out of the corner of his eye. He _looks_ like a hairdresser Spencer thinks and he doesn't look anything like the type of guy Spencer can ever see himself dating. He's pretty and he dresses too young for his age and he turns up on dates without cleaning up from work.

Spencer's brain stutters. Not that he cares how Brendon treats his dates. Because _this_ is not a date.

"So I figured it was kind of late for dinner," Brendon tells him, pulling onto the highway, "But it's kind of early to go to a bar and there's the place I really like that does like, dessert and wines and things, if you'd be into that?"

"Sure," Spencer says. _Date, date, date_ his traitor brain supplies.

The place Brendon has in mind isn't far from Ryan and Jon's, which is good, if worse comes to worst he could probably walk home. He feels immediately guilty for thinking that because Brendon keeps smiling at him and he tries to pull Spencer's seat out at their table until Spencer gives him a look.

"So do you know anything about wines?" Brendon asks, toying with the edge of the list that their waiter brought.

Irrationally, Spencer feels like he should. But he doesn't, and bluffing will just lead to embarrassment. "Not really," he admits, relieved when Brendon laughs.

"Oh thank God. Me either. But I know how Ross is about matching flavours and textures and whatever the fuck else and I thought you might be the same."

Spencer smiles. "Nope, that is totally all Ryan." He doesn't add that when he left Vegas, Ryan had still been refusing to drink.

Brendon opens the menu with a flourish and makes a face. Spencer snorts softly and Brendon looks up with wide, guileless eyes. "What?" he asks, "This is my thinky face."

Spencer bites his lip. He wishes Brendon weren't so strangely charming. "Is it working?"

"Why yes." Brendon nods solemnly. "Yes it totally is. I now know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we want this Pommard one."

"Okay," Spencer says slowly. He can't even find that on the menu. "Why?"

Brendon waggles his eyebrows. "It's number 69 on the list."

Spencer's laugh is startled and loud and he immediately ducks his head when people around them look up. "Oops," he says but Brendon's smiling at him, looking almost proud of himself.

They order their desserts ��" cheesecake for Spencer because there will never be anything better than cheesecake and chocolate profiteroles for Brendon. "Don't come crying to me, when mine looks better than yours," Brendon tells him, shaking his head at what is apparently Spencer's very boring choice.

"So I've seen tons of embarrassing pictures of you," Brendon tells him, after Spencer's taken his first bite of ��" delicious and not at all boring ��" dessert. "And Ross talks about you all the time. He's all proud of you, it's really cute. You have some cool job where you do swanky things with numbers, right?"

"Yeah," Spencer says blankly, thinking of his tiny cubicle in its sea of cubicles and feeling the food in his stomach go heavy. He hadn't realised how much he missed having space until he came back out here. He's worried he's getting used to not being able to touch the sides any more. "How did you meet Ryan?" he asks instead of really answering.

Brendon grins. "My roommate, Shane? He was Jon's TA at film school. But I knew Ryan before, I mean I met him. Your friend Brent introduced us."

"Did we meet?" Spencer asks. Brent wasn't Ryan's friend, he was _their_ friend, but Spencer hasn't heard anything from him for months now.

"You and me?" Brendon waves his spoon. "Sure. Like once at a party. Someone said 'hey, Spence, this is Bden'. You said hi and then we moved on with our lives."

He laughs and Spencer starts to join in except that his brain chooses that moment to remind him of Brendon's laugh ringing through the Ryan's kitchen, while he leaned towards Tom and made bets about Spencer.

Spencer clenches his hands into fists on his knees. It doesn't matter how nice Brendon seems, he reminds himself, this isn't the real Brendon. The real Brendon bet on him.

"Spencer?" Brendon asks. He leans over the table and puts his hand over Spencer's wrist. His fingers are slightly sticky from wine or chocolate or something. "Okay?"

Spencer rakes up his best smile. It's his _yes, sir, I'd love to do this pile of accounts you've dumped on me at midnight_ smile. "Sure," he says.

Brendon's looking at him shrewdly which Spencer doesn't like at all; Spencer forces himself not to fidget under Brendon's gaze. "It must be hard living so far from home?"

"No, it's fine," Spencer says automatically. "We were always going to get out of Vegas."

Brendon takes his hand back to his side of the table. "You and Ryan?"

Spencer nods. "Yeah, but then out-of-Vegas came to us so Ryan wasn't all that interested in moving any more." Spencer doesn't know why he's telling Brendon that, except he opens his mouth and that's what comes out.

"Out-of-Vegas in the shape of Jonny Walker?" Brendon asks.

Spencer smiles. "Yeah," he says. One minute, Ryan was killing time, waiting for Spencer to graduate so they could go to school in New York or LA or anywhere not-Vegas and the next it was Jon this and Jon that and Spencer had known he'd be going alone.

Brendon nods, smiling indulgently. "They're insane about each other, huh?"

They are and Spencer loves that. He totally does. It's just harder to take right now. Tom got him out of Vegas, gave him somewhere to go and a reason to leave and now Spencer's single and on a date with another guy. Well, not a date. Just dinner.

He takes a slow breath. "So tell me about the excitements of cosmeto-whatsit."

Brendon rolls his eyes like he knows Spencer is changing the subject but he obliges anyway. He's good at telling stories and he does all the voices for his different clients and, more than once, Spencer doesn't catch himself before he laughs.

At the end of the night, they linger by Brendon's car. Spencer doesn't feel as desperate to get home as he'd been expecting.

"So," Brendon says. He shuffles his feet and puts his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

"Yeah," Spencer agrees.

Brendon looks up from under his eyelashes. "Did you have fun?"

Spencer kind of did. "Yeah," he admits, because why not?

He puts his hand on Brendon's elbow and Brendon leans into him willingly. Spencer presses their mouths together and something sparks hard in his belly at the way Brendon sighs and curls his fingers into the fabric of Spencer's shirt, pulling it tight over his shoulders.

Kissing Brendon is so easy it's scary, Spencer thinks stupidly, running his hands down Brendon's back until they just skim the curve of his ass.

Brendon makes a pleased sound but steps back and no, Spencer isn't okay with that. But Brendon gives him one more soft, surprisingly sweet kiss and shakes his head.

"I'm not going to sleep with you tonight," he says, running his fingers down Spencer's chest. "I don't do that on first dates."

Spencer doesn't mean to blink at him and he doesn't mean to look incredulous, he thinks both of those are probably pretty rude, but seriously?

Brendon laughs. He touches the frown lines between Spencer's eyes. He _touches_ a lot. Spencer isn't sure he likes that. "Last night wasn't a date, dude." He stops, frowns. "You weren't just taking me out because you wanted more sex, right?"

"_No_," Spencer says immediately, feeling his belly get heavy with something that feels sort of like shame. He was totally doing that, he realises. He shakes off Brendon's hands, but tries to do it gently. "Come on, give me the keys. I'll drive you home."

***

Spencer wakes up feeling, not good exactly, but better. He feels less empty and he thinks his brain might be winding down, fitting itself into a holiday space because there's no To Do list forming in his brain, banging against his skull for his attention.

Still half-asleep, he reaches out an arm, wanting a kiss. His arm hits empty mattress, obviously, and he comes awake with a rush.

He picks up his phone to check the time, amazed that it's nearly eleven. He never sleeps past eight, even at the weekend. There's a message and a missed call on his phone, his mom's number, and he flops back down onto the bed before hitting redial.

Whatever she said in the message she's just going to say again anyway, and he doesn't want to hear it twice.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," his mom says affectionately.

Spencer rolls over and pulls a pillow up and over his head. "Morning," he says.

"Your father and I are taking you out for breakfast, get dressed."

"How do you know I'm not- I _might_ be dressed," Spencer argues but she just laughs at him.

"Anyone who gets within ten feet of that house looses all desire to hurry," she tells him knowingly and he can't help grinning because yeah, that's true. It's like there's pot in the air. Hell, there probably is. "We'll pick you up in a half hour."

"Okay," Spencer says and ends the call.

He drags himself out of bed, trying hard to cling onto the good mood he woke up with. He's hard in the shower, but he ignores it. He doesn't want to think about Tom but more than that he's afraid that he might not.

"What about doves," Ryan is saying when Spencer steps into the kitchen. "Is that too much?" The table is covered in magazines and computer printouts.

"Always," Spencer says seriously.

Ryan jumps. "Oh hey," he says, "How long were you-" He waves his hand vaguely.

"Dude," Spencer says, going to the fridge and pulling out the jug of orange juice. "If you didn't know I was there, who were you talking to?

"No one?" Ryan says guiltily just as Clover strolls out from under the table.

Spencer laughs. "Word of advice? The cat is always going to vote yes on birds, even if she doesn't think they'll match your theme."

Ryan flips him off. "There's toast and things," he says with another unhelpful wave.

Spencer spins a spare chair around and straddles it. "Nah, parents are taking me out to breakfast. Want to come?"

Ryan look up. "Spence, I have breakfast with your mom once a week. It's totally your turn to hear about what Mrs Clyde said about Mrs Foster at their last coffee morning."

Spencer laughs. Four years ago, Ryan would never have spoken about her like that, even teasingly. He pretty much thinks she hung the moon, but he's gotten easier with people lately. Spencer likes it.

Spencer finishes his orange juice then gets up to hang over the back of Ryan's chair. "Shouldn't you be done with all this by now? Wedding's in four days."

"Oh my God, shut up," Ryan moans. "Do you want me to cry?"

Spencer props his head on Ryan's shoulder. "What's up?"

"It's not-" Ryan makes desperate motions with his hands. He looks mostly like he's milking a cow. "It's not enough."

Spencer laughs. "Dude, you've got a band. You've ordered enough flowers to start your own florist. You've got special fucking carpets to stand on. And now apparently you want doves?"

Ryan shrugs. "Maybe no doves," he agrees. "I just want it to be awesome, you know?"

"Ryan. You're marrying Jon Walker. How can it not be awesome?"

"S'true," Ryan agrees reluctantly. "I want _him_ to think it's awesome though."

Spencer blows hot air in Ryan's ear and dances back before Ryan can smack him. "You're insane," Spencer tells him from a safe distance. "You could hire Midtown or something and Jon wouldn't notice. He's only going to be looking at you."

Ryan's cheeks go pink but his eyes shine. "We should totally hire Midtown." He stops, looking up at Spencer thoughtfully. "And did I tell you that Brendon's going to be singing?"

Spencer's brain stutters but he ignores it. Brendon's nice, Spencer has no problem spending time with him. "No? Singing where?"

"With The Cab at the reception; Singing Alex has tonsillitis." He tips his head. "You have fun with him last night?"

Spencer shrugs. He hadn't gotten back late last night but Jon and Ryan had already been in bed. He doesn't know what they think he's doing with Brendon. _Was_ doing. He's not _doing_ anything with Brendon. Brendon's an asshole, Brendon's _supposed_ to be an asshole; Spencer wishes Brendon had been more of an asshole last night. "It was good," he hedges.

"Brendon's awesome," Ryan says slowly. "Like, totally crazy and annoying as shit but also awesome."

_Right_, Spencer thinks except then he feels bad for thinking it and then he feels stupid for feeling bad. Brendon Urie is messing with Spencer's brain. Spencer draws himself up and puts his hands on his hips. "And?"

Ryan just rolls his eyes. "And," he mimics in a bored approximation of Spencer's voice.

They're still staring each other down when Spencer's phone twinkles at him. "Parents," he says, checking it quickly. He points a finger at Ryan. "Whatever you're thinking about me and Brendon, don't."

Ryan pulls on his most innocent face. It only works because he still looks about twelve.

***

"So how's Chicago?" Spencer's dad asks.

Spencer is impressed they've waited until they're actually sat with food before starting any serious conversation. Spencer loves his parents like crazy, but he's automatically defensive whenever the topic of Chicago comes up.

Whatever Spencer does, there's always at least one member of his family around to be supportive - yes, he knows how lucky that makes him. Like his grandfather who built him and Ryan a ramp so they'd have somewhere private to fail spectacularly at skateboarding and his dad who joined PFLAG two days after Spencer came out.

Moving to Chicago is the only thing they've ever been adamantly against.

In hindsight, he did it wrong. He was head-over-heels for Tom and enamoured with the idea of getting out and he didn't prepare them for it, just dropped the bombshell, two months before his eighteenth birthday that he wasn't going staying in Nevada like they thought, but transferring to Chicago to live with his twenty-two year old boyfriend.

Looking back, he's not surprised that they reacted badly.

" Chicago's good," Spencer says. "The weather's better than here."

Spencer's mom makes a face. "The weather in hell is better than here. I hope Ryan's got his summer scarves ready for the big day."

Spencer laughs.

"So you're going back?" his dad asks.

Spencer's fingers clench around his fork. "Sure I am," he says carefully. "Why wouldn't I be?"

His dad's expression shows how much he doesn't want to say _well you broke up with Tom, do you have anything left out there?_

"We just worry about you," his mom says carefully. "You're so far away."

"I'm an adult," Spencer argues. He does his best not to sound petulant.

His mom touches his hand and Spencer is reminded immediately of Brendon. "You're barely twenty three."

"Yeah. Old," Spencer agrees. He's teasing just to clear the air and make her smile but most days he does feel old. He feels ancient.

Truth is. Truth is, Spencer is pretty reluctant to tell the truth about this but he hates his job. He loves Chicago but he hates his job and he hates being so far away from his parents and his sisters and Ryan. He's not about to come home though, he fought too hard to get this to give it up the first time it gets hard.

"There's this guy moved down from New Jersey," his dad says and for a minute Spencer thinks he's changing the subject. "Can't remember his name, something German. He's starting up a record label." He lets his voice trail off and then Spencer gets it.

He looks up tiredly. "Dad,"

"I bet he'd hire you, is all I'm saying. You always wanted to work in music."

Spencer looks back down at his plate and doesn't answer.

***

Sometimes, Spencer wonders if he accidentally signed up to be a bridesmaid rather than a best man and no one told him.

Three days before the wedding and, apparently, he has to go with Ryan to get his hair cut. Get _Ryan's_ hair cut that is. No one is coming anywhere near Spencer with scissors while Ryan Ross is around to offer 'advice'.

Jon says he's just going to drop Ryan and Spencer at the salon then head to his studio but he ends up wandering in with them. It probably has something to do with how his hand is tucked into Ryan's waistband and not showing any sign of moving.

The first thing Spencer sees is Brendon. _Of course_, he thinks. Brendon's wearing a plain black t-shirt and tight black jeans, his hair is straightened down over his forehead and long around his ears, complicatedly spiky on top and clearly all for show

Spencer feels himself get unexpectedly tense; it's like every time he sees Brendon, he's someone different.

"Oh my God, look who it is," Brendon says when he spots them. "Don't worry Mrs Borowski, I won't let them steal me away from you."

He's standing behind a chair at one of the stations and Spencer can see him from every angle thanks to the mirrors lining the walls all around. He's doing something with funny smelling liquid and putting small pieces of paper into a middle-aged woman's hair. _Perming_ some part of Spencer's brain supplies. Sometimes he worries about the facts that he keeps stored in there.

Mrs Borowski laughs, turning faintly pink across her cheeks. "Don't be silly," she tells him. "You should go say hello to your friends." She pats her hair. "It's not like I'm going anywhere."

Brendon bounces over to them. He claps his hands. "Oh thank God. Ross, tell me I finally get to get my hands on that thing you call a haircut. Please?" He lowers his voice, leans into Spencer. "He got it cut at a-" here he lowers his voice, shudders dramatically, "_Chain_."

Spencer can't help it, he laughs.

"Oh fu-" Ryan looks guiltily at Mrs Borowski, "Screw you." He runs his hands protectively over his haircut. Now that Spencer's looking at him properly, it does look like it used to when Spencer's mom shaped both their haircuts around a pudding bowl. "You can tidy it up, okay? Nothing major."

"Sure," Brendon says. His grin is wide and innocent and Spencer doesn't think he trusts it. Neither does Ryan by the look on his face. "I'll be done in a minute," he says, "Greta'll take care of you until I'm ready to grace you with my presence."

He smiles at a pretty blonde girl who comes towards them and takes Ryan's arm. "I love your bracelets," she tells him, leading him over to a row of washbasins.

"What about you, Jonny Walker?" Brendon asks, stepping up to Jon and running his fingers critically through Jon's hair. Jon accepts it pretty graciously. "Doing anything with your hair for the wedding?"

Jon shrugs. "I was thinking about maybe brushing it?"

***

Jon, the asshole, gets to leave after that. Spencer isn't so lucky.

He stakes out a disused station and buries his head in the first magazine he picks up and tries to ignore Ryan and Brendon next to him. If it were just him and Ryan, he'd be doing his best to mock the fuck out of Ryan, but with Brendon listening, he feels weirdly self-conscious.

Unfortunately the magazine doesn't hold his attention. It's kind of hard to rake up enthusiasm for Angelina Jolie's new babies when Brendon's ass is _right there_. Spencer doesn't mean to by pervy but it's hard to forget the feel of that same ass under his fingers and, yeah.

Maybe joining in the conversation is the safer option.

It's weird, but even having spent an evening with Brendon (_two_ evenings, one of them involving sex) Spencer doesn't really know anything about him. It feels safer to ask now, like Ryan's a buffer or something. Spencer doesn't know why he's interested.

For example, he doesn't own this salon but, "The old lady that does is in Florida for the… well she went for the winter about three years ago. I hope she's all right."

Spencer can sense he's being screwed with but he still can't help but make a face.

Brendon and Greta giggle. "Dude, she's fine," Brendon says, waving his hands around. In the mirror, Ryan looks alarmed at how close the points come to the tip of his ear. "Her daughter has a new baby and an asshole husband so she's helping her out. What? You don't think I'm doing a good job?" He flutters his eyelashes at Spencer and Spencer can't help it, he goes red.

"So," Ryan says when they get outside. Spencer is kind of amazed by how much better his hair looks. Brendon's managed to shape it so it falls long and wavy down to his jaw. He looks ��" and this isn't something Spencer ever likes to think about Ryan ��" kind of hot. "So, Brendon has a pretty massive crush on you."

Spencer manages, by working really hard, not to swallow his tongue. "Dude, you're dreaming. He was flirting with you too, you know."

Ryan rolls his eyes. "Well, duh, he's _Brendon_. You made him blush a couple times though and _no one_ can do that. I mean you did like, take him out…" He lets his sentence trail off but Spencer doesn't know how to reply. He doesn't know if Ryan knows Spencer slept with Brendon or not. He really hopes he doesn't.

"That wasn't. I'm not. He's completely not my type," Spencer splutters. Because sure, Brendon is gorgeous but he's not… he's so _much_. Spencer doesn't have the energy for that. Besides, Ryan doesn't know what he- what he and Tom said. Spencer knows that if Ryan knew about that he wouldn't be doing this whole non-subtle defending of Brendon thing.

It's weird, having Ryan looking out for anyone who isn't Spencer. Spencer isn't jealous exactly, it's just… different.

***

They were meant to be meeting Jon for lunch, but Spencer cries off. He's starting to feel kind of like an asshole.

Yeah, Brendon made a stupid bet about sleeping with Spencer but everything Spencer's seen since has told him that Brendon's a nice guy. He doesn't deserve to get caught up in the middle of Spencer's nervous breakdown, so Spencer's going to have to put a stop to whatever it is they're doing.

It's the only thing to do, he tells himself, and doesn't examine why he kind of doesn't want to do that.

Spencer already has his phone in his hand by the time he unlocks Ryan's front door. He has a plan. It's not a plan that's going to win him any friends, but he's still going to do it. He's going to call Brendon, explain that he's an asshole and break up with him.

He really is. Despite how bright and excited Brendon sounds when he answers the phone.

"Spencer," he breathes into the phone. "Spencer I am in the middle of turning an ugly duckling into a beautiful swan, so you're going to have to be quick."

Spencer pushes the door open and says, "Brendon." He means it to be the start of something, but instead his words get stuck in his throat.

In front of him, is Tom. Lying on the sofa with some girl on top of him. They're making out and she isn't wearing a top. Her bra is black and lacy.

"Spencer?" Brendon prompts in his ear.

"Right." Spencer is going to throw up. "Have dinner with me tonight?" he asks in a rush and wait, what, that wasn't what he meant to say. His brain is broken though, scarred, and he turns on his heel and marches through the house.

"Spencer," he hears behind him but he doesn't stop. Just presses his phone closer to his ear and listens to Brendon instead.

***

Spencer borrows Ryan's car for the night and goes to pick up Brendon. He ignores the look Ryan gives him when he hands over the key, ignores every attempt Tom makes to talk to him, and ignores Jon just on principle. That last one, he feels kind of shitty about.

Brendon opens the door, dressed nicely like Spencer told him to be.

There's a scrawny, yappy, dog… thing dancing around behind his feet. It's wearing a scarf and a tiny knitted jumper and Spencer doesn't want to know.

"Ready?" Spencer asks. It comes out abrupt and Spencer forces himself to take a breath. None of this is Brendon's fault.

Brendon smiles widely. "Sure," he says, grabbing up his keys and yelling a goodbye over his shoulder. He's such a blur of motion that he's half way to the car before Spencer realises that his smile didn't come anywhere near his eyes.

In the car, Brendon takes over the radio but he doesn't try to start a conversation. "Okay?" Spencer asks. He can't think of anything that he's done to make Brendon go cold on him. Well, he can't think of anything Brendon knows about, anyway.

"Good, totally good," Brendon agrees. His foot is jittering against his knee.

Spencer looks at him but they don't really know each other, not well. He's not sure he has the right to demand Brendon tell him the truth.

"So I booked a table at Larezni's," he says, once they're moving. He can't exactly afford it but if there's one thing Spencer's good at, it's budgeting. He'll get by.

Brendon makes a startled sound. "What's this, Spencer Smith?" he asks, brightly. "You're taking me to the most swankified place in town?"

Spencer forces his fingers to loosen on the steering wheel. "I am," he agrees. He's going to take Brendon on the best date ever and then he's going to make out with him and, somewhere, Tom Conrad's soul is going to die.

Spencer is apparently a really bad person.

"Awesome," Brendon says but it wavers on the end.

Spencer slows the car. "What's wrong?" he asks, ignoring the horns of a couple of cars that pass them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer sees Brendon lick his lips quickly. "Nothing. I just. It hasn't been the best day ever, I guess." He forces out a laugh. "It's nothing. Ignore me."

His foot is still jittering and now his hand joins in.

Automatically, Spencer reaches over the handbrake and puts his hand over Brendon's.

"It's nothing," Brendon says again. "I just kind of had a fight with my parents."

"Right." Spencer has a limit to how much for an idiot he can be. He's not using Brendon, not like this. "And the last thing you feel like is getting all dressed up and going somewhere where you have to be on your best behaviour."

"No," Brendon says quickly. "No, this is great. We can- I promise I'll have a good time."

Spencer shakes his head. He takes the next left and heads them back the way they came.

"Spencer?" Brendon's voice goes quiet like he thinks Spencer might be angry with him. Without having any idea about the context, he's suddenly furious with Brendon's parents.

"Let's do something more fun, yeah?" he says. He turns them onto Ryan's street and pulls up outside the house.

Brendon looks at him sharply. "What?"

Spencer just climbs out, crossing around the front of the car to pull the door open for Brendon. Brendon frowns at him in confusion as he climbs out.

***

It doesn't occur to Spencer that taking Brendon home is worse than taking him out and letting Tom hear about it, until they're already inside the house. He's surprised by just how relieved he feels when it turns out that Tom isn't in.

Inside, Brendon copies Spencer's example by kicking off his shoes then follows him through the house. Spencer hasn't known Brendon long, but he already knows that it's strange to see Brendon so still and compliant. He seems smaller like this, folded in on himself like he's expecting to catch himself on something sharp.

Spencer puts his hand on Brendon's arm when they reach the living room and Brendon leans into him. "How about we watch something?" Spencer asks.

Brendon just looks at him. "Spencer, seriously, you don't have to- I can just go."

"Brendon," Spencer says in his firmest voice. He sweeps his arm out to show the insane number of DVDs that Jon and Ryan own between them.

Brendon shrugs. He tucks himself up on the sofa and puts his bare feet up on the coffee table. "Something mindless?"

"Desperate Housewives?" Spencer asks, picking on the most mindless thing he sees. He makes a mental note to give Ryan shit for owning that later.

Brendon pulls up a smile. "Please."

Spencer stands over him, DVD case in one hand, watching him pick at the cuffs of his pants. Spencer doesn't know this kid but he wants to take away whatever's hurting him. It's a weird thing for him to be feeling, he knows. Contrary to what his mom claims, Spencer doesn't have a complex for fixing people, he's only ever wanted to fix Ryan. Wanting to fix someone else is a new feeling for him.

"Come on," he says, holding out his hand. "Let's watch this in my room."

Brendon's head snaps up. "Spencer Smith," he starts, but Spencer hushes him.

"It's more comfortable," he says. Also no one will accidentally stumble across them.

Brendon takes Spencer's hand and lets him pull him to his feet. He doesn't pull his hand away and Spencer uses it to lead him upstairs.

"Are you going to ask me awkward questions?" Brendon asks, throwing himself down onto Spencer's bed. Spencer has a vivid flashback of the last time he saw Brendon stretched out there, of his pale skin and neat, slender body.

Spencer allows himself one slow blink then focuses on the present. "Wasn't planning on it."

Brendon almost-smiles. "How about you don't ask about me and I won't ask about Tom?"

Spencer blinks, pulled up short. "That would be good," he says slowly. Of course Brendon knows about Tom, of course he does.

"Right," Brendon pats the bed. "Give me some ridiculous TV, Mr Smith."

Spencer cues up the menu on the DVD, presses play then takes the remote control and himself over to the bed.

Brendon smiles when the music starts to play and sits up against the pillows, hugging his knees to his chest. "Thank you," he says quietly.

Spencer just nods. "Shh," he says, nodding at the TV.

Brendon stays quiet for the first episode, but by the second, he's laughing or gasping or heckling where appropriate. Spencer keeps finding himself shooting Brendon sidelong glances, checking on him.

After the second episode finishes, they let it go to menu. "I'm sorry about totally ruining your night," Brendon says.

"Don't be stupid," Spencer says. It's what he would say to Ryan ��" has said to Ryan ��" in similar situations. It feels safest.

Brendon doesn't look away from the TV. "Me and my family just don't get on great. It's no big thing."

"Okay," Spencer says. He surprises himself by rewarding Brendon's honesty with some of his own. "Me and Tom neither."

"Yeah," Brendon half-turns towards him. "I got that." He looks up, expression uncertain. "Can I-?" he waves a hand between himself and Spencer.

Spencer doesn't know what Brendon's asking but he nods anyway.

Brendon shuffles closer, leaning into Spencer and Spencer gets it. He brings his arms up and circles Brendon's waist, feeling slightly stiff about it, pats Brendon's back with his other hand.

It takes Brendon a moment to respond ��" this was _his_ idea, Spencer reminds himself when it starts to feel awkward ��" except then he sighs, one long breath blowing out against Spencer's neck.

"Sorry, can I just stay here a minute?" he asks. "I promise I won't drool."

"You can stay," Spencer says and just stops himself from adding _for as long as you want_, because he doesn't mean that. He can't. Brendon sighs again though and goes limp, resting his head on Spencer's shoulder. Cautiously, Spencer touches his back.

They let the DVD play on, but pretty soon Brendon has fallen asleep.

Spencer doesn't say anything, just lies still and strokes his fingers over Brendon's side. He'd appreciate someone telling him what the fuck he's doing right now. This isn't the way you treat the dude you're using to get back at your ex.

Spencer pretty much sucks at revenge.

He's not sure how much later, but at some point, there's a knock on the door. "Spence?" Ryan says, sticking his head in. He stops, taking in Spencer and sleeping Brendon, his eyes growing wide.

Spencer just puts his finger to his lips.

Ryan gives him a look, not a _what-the-hell-Spence_ look but something more surprised and more approving.

He nods once then quietly closes the door on them.

***

The next few days pass in a blur. Apparently three-days-to-go is the time that all best-manly duties kick in and Spencer suddenly finds himself rushing around town trying to sort out things that Ryan's forgotten to do or has started to do and left hanging or just this second realised that they have to have.

Jon, being Jon, is way more laid back but still, whenever Spencer sees Tom, he's looking pretty harried too.

The good thing about being busy is that they don't have time to be weird around each other, which is good. And every time they see each other, it's just a little bit easier. Spencer guesses that that's good too.

Spencer sees Brendon a couple of times and he's back to his bouncy, perky self. But Spencer knows how to look between the lines now, and he surprises himself more than once by randomly squeezing Brendon's fingers or touching his wrist, when he thinks Brendon is looking down.

The smiles he gets every time make him feel simultaneously less creepy for staring and more confused about what he's doing

The day before the wedding is the rehearsal. It worries Spencer that all the shit that Ryan has planned is going to require practicing.

Spencer spends the morning of rehearsal day sitting cross-legged on the floor of Ryan's living room, doing things with crepe paper and crazy glue. He's kind of sticky.

Brendon is somewhere in the house, talking music with Ryan, and Spencer feels ridiculous because he can't settle knowing Brendon is around. He's caught somewhere between hoping to catch glimpses of him and praying that Tom doesn't.

"Okay," Ryan says, coming out of the utility room with Brendon at his heels. "So no power ballads, okay? You promise."

Brendon laughs. "Well I don't promise, I have to give what my public demands. But I'll do my best to tone it down for your little indie soul."

"I want a _Whole New World_," Jon calls from the kitchen. "Bden, did you argue my case?"

"I did," Brendon says. Spencer watches him pout elaborately even though Jon can't see. "He shot me down in flames. _Flames_, Jon."

"Don't you have to _go_?" Ryan asks, poking Brendon in the side.

"No," Brendon says blankly. Then, "Yes! Shit! I have to go rescue Dylan from the in-laws, how could I forget?"

He spins around, spots Spencer and beams. "Don't you look a picture."

Spencer would love to flip him off, but his fingers are all stuck together. "In-laws?" he asks instead, trying to sound disinterested.

"Shane's parents," Brendon says with a wink. "They think we're fucking. It's hilarious."

He ducks down and kisses Spencer's cheek. "Save me a dance tomorrow, okay?" he says then disappears in a whirl of lavender hoodie before Spencer can say anything.

Ryan sighs. "What are you doing?" he asks flatly.

Sadly, Spencer can't flip him off either.

***

Spencer's ninety percent sure that the only reason Ryan and Jon are having this rehearsal is to see if they can give him a nervous breakdown.

Ryan hadn't so much as asked him to be his best man as rolled his eyes and said "duh," when the subject came up. That was pretty much how Tom got asked too.

If Spencer had known just how much organisation it was going to take, well he wouldn't have said no, Spencer rocks at organising, but he would have stolen a couple of Valium out of his boss's purse first.

"No," Ryan says, "It needs to be more." Ryan's been saying that a lot lately.

"More what?" Spencer asks. It's possible he doesn't put a suitable amount of interest into the question but seriously, he's said it eight times already in the past half hour.

"More _more_." They've hired out a hotel garden for the ceremony and reception and currently Ryan and Spencer and other helpful people are running around getting it all set up. Ryan has flower garlands draped over his arms from when he got distracted midway through decorating the tables. He's wearing pinstriped trousers, a fedora with a feather tucked into the rim and Spencer thinks he might be wearing eyeliner.

"Is it me?" Spencer asks, putting his hands on his hips, "Or has 'more' now lost all meaning?"

Ryan's quiet for a minute then he laughs, all the tension draining out of him. Spencer's proud of himself for still being able to do that. "Bubble machine!" Ryan says suddenly, straightening up.

"What?" Spencer asks, although he's afraid he already knows.

"Spence." Ryan grabs his arm, eyes all bright and shiny. "Could we get a bubble machine, do you think?"

Right. Of course. Bubble machine. "Yeah," he says, instead of _oh my God, stop, how are you this insane?_ "Not for tonight?"

"No, no. For tomorrow. There should be bubbles wafting over us while we say our vows. That would be awesome, right?"

It's twee and corny and ridiculous but so are Ryan and Jon. Spencer nods. "Unless you sneeze." He pulls out his phone. "I'll go make some calls."

He plays with his phone, walking around to the side of the building where there's reception and walks straight into Tom.

Literally.

"Fuck," Tom snaps, steadying a tower of records that are stacked up in his arms. They start to slip from his fingers and he curses again and sets them on the floor.

"Sorry," Spencer says automatically. Then, entirely independent of his brain, his mouth says, "No date?"

Tom frowns. "Meaning what?"

Spencer shouldn't have started this. "You seem to be making friends. That guitarist, the girl with the black bra, any others?"

Tom goes red. "Oh fuck you," he says, straightening up from his crouch over the records. "What the fuck right do you have to criticise me? You're the one running around town with your little hairdresser twink."

Spencer means to slap Tom, honestly he does. Except he blinks and his hands are still by his sides but his mouth is on Tom's.

Tom clutches handfuls of Spencer's hair, pulling too hard, and Spencer twists them around so that they're pressed up against the nearest wall. Spencer opens his mouth and Tom bites at his lips and-

"Fuck," Jon's voice says. "Shit," Ryan's voice says and "Oh," says someone who definitely isn't either of them.

Spencer shoves Tom away. He rubs at his mouth but can't do anything about the way his breath is heaving in his chest.

"Brendon," he says feeling a lot of things suddenly come crashing down.

"Oh," Brendon says again, and oh god, his face.

Tom does his bit, backing away, but Brendon still looks sick, Ryan looks genuinely angry and Jon looks torn about how he should be feeling. Spencer feels embarrassed and guilty and he does what he always does when he's cornered, refuses to back down.

"What?" he snaps at Brendon, "It's not like you have the moral high ground here, you're the one who bet on getting me into bed in the first place!"

Spencer expects Brendon to stumble or stutter or look shocked at having been caught out. Instead, he just gets paler and more confused-looking. "What?" he says, "What, Spencer, I would never-"

Spencer hates being lied to. "Save it," he snaps. "I heard you, both of you. At the party, remember?" He feels his face light up with residual humiliation from hearing himself talked about like that.

Brendon just shakes his head and it's Tom who speaks up. "Uh, Spence? You've got it all wrong, we weren't-"

"I _heard_ you," Spencer says. He doesn't sound as angry as he wants to. He sounds defeated and maybe he's been lying to himself about how much he's been hurting.

"Is that-" Brendon starts. His voice is small and Spencer doesn't mean to feel guilty but he does. "That's why you- That's why you slept with me, wasn't it? That's why you've been so nice to me? Because you thought Tom bet on you and you wanted to get back at him?"

Spencer opens his mouth ready to deny it, but falls silent, feeling helpless. That's maybe exactly what he's been doing.

Brendon shakes his head, backs away. "I can't, uh. Jon, I'm sorry, I can't be here."

Jon puts an arm around him, "I'll drive you home," he says. Ryan looks back and forth between them with big, stunned eyes and Spencer hasn't seen Ryan look like that for years.

Jon kisses Ryan quick. "I'm sorry, I've got to-"

"Yeah," Ryan nods. "Go, yeah. It's okay-." He smiles slightly. "We know how to get married, right?"

Jon flashes him a quick grin. "Damn right we do."

No one looks at Spencer as Jon and Brendon move away. "Wait," he says helplessly.

Ryan slaps his shoulder. "Spencer, _fuck_," he says. "Let him go." He gives Spencer another sharp look and walks away, flower garlands swinging like some kind of angry floral tail.

"Spence," Tom says quietly. He puts his hand on Spencer's arm, calluses against bare skin and Spencer feels… nothing. He's not angry with Tom anymore and he's not interested in scoring any more points. He doesn't know why he didn't realise that sooner. "I have no idea how much you heard at that party, but I swear to God that Brendon didn't bet on you."

Spencer closes his eyes and slumps back against the wall. He waves his hand slowly, indicating that Tom should go on.

"We- I don't totally remember all of it but we were in the kitchen and he said something about thinking you were hot. And he got all tongue-tied when I told him we were together, which I thought was hilarious at the time. And I just- You know how I get when I'm in a bad place, Spence, I get mean. So I bet him he couldn't sleep with you and he told me to go to hell."

"What?" Spencer does not remember that bit.

"Well he asked me what the fuck my problem was and told me I shouldn't talk about my boyfriend like that."

"Which is true," Spencer says automatically.

Tom nods. "Sure is."

"But Brendon didn't, he didn't-?"

"Nope."

"And he's been. He slept with me because he liked me? And he's been spending time with me all week because he liked me, nothing else?" Spencer's head is spinning.

"Yeah." Tom gives him a quiet, sad smile. "Sucks, huh?"

Spencer presses a hand to his stomach and tries not to start yelling. "Oh God."

***

Ryan's sofa is Spencer's favourite place in the world, Spencer decides. It's warm and soft and if he wriggles backwards, it almost feels like it's hugging him.

The sad thing is that Spencer isn't even drunk. Spencer is curled up on the sofa, with a beer open on one knee but hardly touched. Ryan's somewhere in the house, Tom stayed at the venue, and Jon's not back yet.

Spencer feels alone and miserable, and like ten types of blazing idiot.

"You're an idiot," Ryan tells him. Spencer doesn't even have the energy to jump at the unexpected voice or the mind-reading.

"Yeah," Spencer agrees. He puts his beer down on the coffee table. He doesn't want it anyway.

The sofa barely dips when Ryan sits down next to him. He's changed out of his wedding clothes, and in his sweats and one of Jon's Cubs t-shirts he looks soft and young.

"Idiot," he repeats and holds out his arms.

Spencer makes a noise that definitely isn't a sob. It's just a sound that could be taken to convey that he feels like shit right now but apparently his best friend doesn't hate him too much.

He leans into Ryan's arms, finds the least bony place to rest his head and closes his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispers after a long silence.

Ryan strokes his hair back out of his face. "I don't get what's going with you, Spence. I thought Chicago had everything you wanted, but you're miserable, aren't you?"

Spencer drags in a deep breath. "I wasn't. It was. It was so good in the beginning." When Spencer first arrived in Chicago and Tom opened the door to his tiny, crummy loft and smiled and everything was perfect.

"But not now?" Ryan asks.

Spencer shakes his head. "I don't know what to do. I- there's Tom and, I-I don't love him anymore. But there's Brendon, and-. God, Ry, did you see his face?"

Ryan hugs him and Spencer hides his face in Ryan's shoulder. His eyes are burning and his chest feels like it's closing down, giving up on him.

"Okay," Ryan says, holding him tight, holding him up. It's the wrong way around, Spencer thinks numbly, he's the one who's supposed to be strong for Ryan. Except god knows Spencer can't be strong for himself right now.

Spencer tries to pull away when they hear the door open but Ryan won't let him, digs his fingers into Spencer's back, just to the left of his spine, so Spencer can't move.

"Damn," Jon's voice says from the doorway. "I was so prepared to be pissed at you."

Spencer manages a small ��" pathetically small ��" laugh. "You still can be?" he says, pulling away from Ryan far enough to wipe his face off with his fingers.

Jon shakes his head. He sits down on the arm of sofa and rests his chin on the top of Spencer's head. "You're kind of a heartbreaker, Spencer Smith," is all he says.

***

Spencer spends half the night dialling and redialling Brendon's number. It takes until one a.m. before Brendon's cell starts going straight to voicemail and Spencer is mostly just impressed that it took Brendon that long to turn off his phone.

He lies awake for hours after that, calling himself all the names he knows, fingering the skin on his forearm where Brendon's number used to be and wishing he'd realised this mattered before he lost it.

He wakes up early, showers and walks straight into Tom in the kitchen.

"Spencer," Tom says, putting down his mug and standing when Spencer just wants to walk straight back out again, "Hang on."

"Not now, okay," Spencer begs.

Tom catches hold of him by the wrist. "No, look," he shuffles his feet a minute. "This Brendon kid, you're pretty into him, right?"

"I guess," Spencer hedges. It feels weird talking about this with Tom. "I think maybe I'm on the rebound," he doesn't add _from you_ because what's the point? They both know what's gone down this week.

Tom shakes his head. "You're not. You get all lit up when you think about him. That's your in love face, Spence, not your rebound face. Believe me, I remember it."

He reaches out and curls his fingers around Spencer's. Spencer can't help the desperate minute that he spends clinging back. "You should go get your boy," Tom tells him at last.

Spencer agrees, he really does. He just wishes it didn't feel so hopeless. "How?"

Tom grins. "He's Ryan and Jonny's friend, Spence. Think big."

***

Spencer doesn't cry at Ryan and Jon's wedding.

It doesn't matter what they later claim to have on film, because it doesn't happen.

It is possible that at one point something flies into his eye ��" just as Ryan, ridiculous but glowing in all his beads and shimmery scarves, and Jon, barefoot in jeans, toes digging into the Aladdin-esque carpets they'd bought for the occasion, clasp hands and promise to stay together forever - but that isn't the same as crying.

Coincidentally, Spencer can report that his exotic Chicago tie makes an awesomely absorbent handkerchief.

***

Afterwards, Spencer is the first person Ryan hugs.

"Oh my God," Ryan says into Spencer's ear. "Oh my _God_, I got married."

Spencer squeezes him. "Don't freak out," he orders. "I will mock you forever if you freak out."

When Ryan pulls back, his grin is blinding. "Totally not freaking out," he says. Spencer's mom taps Ryan on the shoulder and Ryan turns, willingly hugging her next. That's a first as far as Spencer knows.

Spencer smiles and moves away, leaving Ryan to have his day. He definitely deserves it.

Brendon isn't here yet - Spencer hadn't known how to ask, but Jon told him so he didn't have to ��" but he's coming for the reception because he's promised to sing.

Spencer… is going to do something big and win him over and convince Brendon that he isn't an asshole. He just doesn't know quite what that will be yet. He wonders if any of Ryan's wedding magazines have a section on the best way for the best man to apologise to the boy whose heart he trampled on like it didn't matter.

"Spencer Smith," says a voice behind him. Spencer recognises it, but for a moment he can't place it. Then he looks around and sees Brent Wilson.

"Fuck," he says, "Hi."

"Hey." Brent grins and holds out his hand. Brent's grown into a big guy. He's tall and bulky and he's cut his hair. He looks fantastic. "Good to see you."

"You too," Spencer says automatically. His brain feels a bit buffeted. "What are you up to, man?"

Brent swings his arms. Spencer doesn't remember him being this easy in his skin before. "Graduated. Working for my dad." His smile widens. "Me and my girl have a baby on the way."

"Oh my God," Spencer says, finding himself laughing in amazement. He and Ryan were never as close to Brent as they were to each other, but that was more about the two of them being freakily tight than anything Brent did wrong. Brent used to be one of Spencer's best friends and Spencer can't remember what he was thinking, letting them lose touch.

He opens his mouth to say something else, congratulations probably, when he hears the twang of a guitar being dropped and he looks up to see that the band have arrived. The band and Brendon.

"Look," Spencer says. "Can we catch up later? I swear I'm not blowing you off, just there's someone I have to talk to."

"Sure," Brent says easily. "Ryan's got my number." He follows the line of Spencer's gaze and smiles in slight confusion. "And so does Brendon."

Irrationally, Spencer feels his cheeks go pink. "Awesome," he says, "I will totally see you soon."

"Go away, Spencer," Brendon says before Spencer can say so much as hi. He's got a guitar resting across his thighs and his knuckles are white around the neck.

"Please," Spencer says, "Please just listen to me."

Brendon strums a chord, makes a satisfied face and strums another one. He's got his head down so Spencer can't see his eyes. "Look," he says. "I'm just here to play some songs for my friends. Please don't make me ruin this for them."

He still sounds so sad; Spencer hates himself.

"I-" Spencer starts. He swallows hard. He puts his hand on Brendon's shoulder and squeezes once. Brendon's shoulder is warm and a little sweaty below his shirt. "I'm sorry."

Brendon nods. He twitches his nose and Spencer wonders if he feels as close to crying in frustration as Spencer does.

Spencer doesn't want to give up this easily, but he doesn't know how to make things better. And he's so damn scared of screwing this up more.

So he walks away.

"Okay?" Jon asks, putting his hand on Spencer's back. His pupils are blown and his grin is a little sloppy. Spencer is automatically more relaxed about the speech he has to give later.

"I'm good," he lies, patting Jon's arm. "How's it feel to be an old married man?"

Jon laughs. "I'm gonna start wearing socks with sandals and grow a beer belly and he won't be able to walk out because he's stuck with me."

Spencer drags up a smile. "That is one cunning plan, dude," he says.

Jon wraps an arm around Spencer's shoulders and starts walking him towards the tables where guests are starting to seat themselves. Spencer's up on the long trestle with his parents and Jon's parents and Ryan and Jon and Tom.

When Spencer and Jon reach the table, Spencer's parents are looking the other way while Tom hands Ryan a joint. Jon's mother is leaning over Tom to get a drag.

Ryan raises his eyebrows when Spencer sits down beside him. "Want?" he asks, joint held professionally between two fingers.

Spencer shakes his head. His mother is sitting next to him for fuck's sake. Then he takes a deep breath and thinks why the hell not. He's twenty-three; he's allowed to be irresponsible if he wants to be.

The smoke hits his lungs like a memory. Jon got him started smoking up but it was Tom who used to press a joint into his hands when school was getting too much and they'd sit out on the roof in silence for hours. Spencer used to be fun, he knows he did. He has no idea where that went.

"Hey," Ryan says, jostling his arm. "No sad faces on my wedding day, dude."

Spencer pulls his fakest and widest smile just to watch Ryan recoil. "This is my happy face," he corrects.

Ryan raises his eyebrows but Spencer shakes his head. He's not quite ready to share yet.

He jumps when someone taps a microphone then groans when he looks up and sees that his dad has stood up, microphone in one hand and his speech notes in the other. Oh God, Spencer thinks and tries to hide in his seat until it's over.

In actual fact, it's not that bad. Spencer's dad glosses nicely over why Ryan has no family of his own here today, dwells far too long on every embarrassing thing Ryan and Spencer did while growing up (and he makes sure to emphasise that it was Ryan _and Spencer_, which Spencer doesn't think is fair at all. It's not like it's _his_ wedding), and he doesn't end it on too sappy a note.

Then it's Jon's dad's turn, then it's Spencer's.

Jon and Ryan had decided that they were more than happy to let everyone else do their talking for them so they just sit pretty in the middle of the top table, smiling smugly while everyone else undergoes the torture of public speaking.

Spencer takes the microphone from Jon's dad and realises that his hands are sweating. He inhales deeply, pulls on his most confident face and sets his shoulders.

Then he looks up and sees Brendon, sitting on the side of the stage beside the band's drummer. His hands are wrapped around the edge of the stage and he's looking at Spencer with this open expression which he turns his head to hide when their eyes meet.

It all clicks for Spencer, like a lightning bolt or something, that this is his chance. This is his something big.

"I've known Ryan all my life," he starts. He makes a face in the direction of his dad. "As you've been hearing." Several people laugh and the tension that's renting space inside his belly eases.

He looks out across all these people, most of whom he doesn't know, all of whom he should because they're the people who are important to Ryan, and he makes a decision. Whether or not he can get Brendon to forgive him, he's not losing any more of the life he should be having here.

He'd really like Brendon to forgive him though. He looks up at Brendon and can't look away. Brendon fidgets under his gaze, and Spencer watches in dismay as he gets up, starts to walk away.

"Which is why I think they're going to forgive me for flaking on them," Spencer improvises fast, watching as Brendon nears the corner that will take him around the hotel and out of Spencer's sight. If this were a movie or Spencer were Hugh Grant, he'd be able to open his mouth and say _I'm sorry_ or _I was angry but it wasn't at you and I didn't mean to hurt you_, he'd say _I love you_ and Brendon would be stuck to the spot, would turn slowly and smile and Spencer would jump down off the stage and kiss him.

Everybody would clap and Ryan would get mocking rights for life and Spencer would be cool with that.

He can't do that though, so he does the next best thing. He makes desperate eyes at Ryan who stares at him for a second before nodding and smiling and waving him off. "Go," he says. Spencer hesitates a second longer, he really is flaking here. He's not the sort of person who does impulsive.

Tom tips the balance for him. He comes up behind Spencer, takes the mic and smacks him on the shoulder. "Dude," he says, "Go."

Spencer goes.

Brendon isn't hard to find. He's leaning against the wall just around the corner of the building. There are sunglasses on top of his head but his eyes are closed tight against the sunlight, the big dark circles under them stark against his pale face.

"Brendon," Spencer says quietly.

Brendon doesn't jump so much as stiffen. "Don't you have a speech to make?" he asks, not opening his eyes.

"No." Spencer steps up to him. "I left."

That gets Brendon's eyes open. "You left?"

"I thought, and Ryan agreed, that there was something more important that I had to do."

"What was that?" Brendon asks, looking at him levelly.

Spencer swallows, forces himself to breathe. "I had to apologise to you."

Brendon's mouth twists and he looks to the side. "Apology accepted," he says thickly.

"No, you don't get it." It's written clear in the downturn of Brendon's mouth that he doesn't understand what Spencer wants him to know. Spencer wishes one of them were telepathic. "I'm sorry."

Brendon laughs. "I get that," he says. "It's what I meant by 'apology accepted'."

Spencer wraps both hands around Brendon's sleeve. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I can't believe I- I hate myself for-. Brendon please look at me."

Brendon does and Spencer wishes he hadn't. There's no light in his eyes. "I get that I was a distraction," Brendon says quietly. "And you'll be going back to your perfect life in Chicago with your perfect boyfriend. That's what happens, Spence, the spazzy hometown fuck doesn't get the boy."

"I hate my life in Chicago ," Spencer forces out. He doesn't mean to say it, but it's true. "My job sucks. I miss Ryan and my mom so much it hurts. My perfect boyfriend drinks too much and resents the hours I work and is sick of me because I grew up different from how we were both expecting."

He has to swallow after he says all that. The words leave his mouth tasting like acid.

Brendon's expression softens. "Spence," he says. He shakes free of Spencer's hands and puts his palms on either side of Spencer's neck. Spencer realises that one of them is shaking; he thinks it might be both.

Spencer understands that Brendon is just trying to reassure him, isn't actually forgiving him, but they're so close and Brendon's lips are full and chapped and a little parted.

He presses his mouth against Brendon's.

Brendon makes a small noise, almost a sigh but he doesn't respond to the kiss. Spencer gives him a second more then stops, their mouths open and together, sharing air, but not kissing.

Spencer turns his head just far enough that he can speak. Brendon's cheek is soft and only slightly bristly against his lips. "I want to stay," Spencer tells him. His heart is pounding and he can feel Brendon's heartbeat echoing through their chests, lodging in Spencer's throat. "I want to see if I can get you to forgive me and maybe like, find out where I got so uptight and try to reverse it."

Brendon shakes his head. There's a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth. "I think you'll have your work cut out."

Spencer's heart sinks, but he nods. "I know. Brendon, I'm so-"

But Brendon's grinning wider. "I meant you'll have to work pretty hard to loosen up; you're pretty stressy." He rubs a hand over the end of his nose, smiling behind his fingers. "Those other things are pretty much a given. I'm kind of a sucker for big, almost-public declarations."

Spencer can feel his own face crack into a grin. "I was gonna do it on the stage," he confesses, "With the microphone and everything."

Brendon laughs, hiding his face in Spencer's shoulder. "Oh, I would have _died_," he says, sounding pretty happy about it.

Spencer bends his head down until he can catch the corner of Brendon's mouth with his lips. Brendon straightens up to meet him.

The kiss is soft at first, just a light brush of their lips. Spencer smiles, pulling back just to check that Brendon's smiling too. He is.

Spencer pushes Brendon's hair back out of his eyes, sliding his hand around to cup Brendon's skull.

"I think I might love you," he says.

Brendon's smile goes even wider. "You've just met me," he says, kissing Spencer's thumb when he swipes it over Brendon's lower lip.

Spencer shrugs. "Still," he says and pulls Brendon close.

***

Spencer probably deserves the amount of shit he gets him when they rejoin the wedding party.

People stare. People he's never _seen_ before stare. And Spencer doesn't give a shit.

Brendon gives Spencer one more kiss before running up on stage and stealing the microphone from the bass player who'd been filling in. The bass player looks mightily relieved.

"Hey, guys," Brendon says, "This is the most awesome wedding ever," before launching into a little bit of Queen.

Spencer stares for a minute, watching the way Brendon moves up there. He's all confidence and tiny hips and big, swelling notes and Spencer finds it impossible to believe that he's only had this in his life for a week.

Ryan and Jon are off to one side of the dance floor, doing something that might be dancing, might just be some kind of shared zombie interlude.

Spencer lets them shuffle and cling for a while longer then slips through the dancers and taps Jon on the shoulder. "Can I borrow your husband?" he asks. The grins he gets from both of them at the word 'husband' are stupid and ridiculous and make him smile too.

Jon kisses Ryan's cheek then hands him off.

"What's up?" Ryan asks. There are flowers behind his ear.

"Nothing," Spencer says and takes his hands. "Dance with me?"

Ryan raises his eyebrows. They're as close as two people can be but they've never been as touchy with each other as they are with everyone else. Spencer puts one hand on Ryan's hip and the other in the middle of his back and Ryan rolls his eyes but steps close and curls both hands around Spencer's shoulders.

"How come you're leading?" he asks.

Spencer just lifts his eyebrows. Ryan rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out.

"Come here," Spencer says, still laughing. He pulls Ryan closer, until they're pressed together and starts to move them slowly, matching the beat of the song that the band and Brendon are playing now. It's something he doesn't recognise but it sounds like the Beatles and knowing Ryan and Jon it probably is.

Ryan rests his chin on Spencer's shoulder and lets himself be moved.

"Want to know a secret?" Spencer asks after a minute.

Ryan hums. "Always."

"I'm moving back to Vegas," he says and stumbles to a halt when Ryan stops dead, pulling back to stare at him.

"Oh my God," Ryan says, suddenly beaming at him. "Seriously?"

Spencer grins back at him. He feels sort of ridiculous but his insides are bubbling with an unexpected excitement and he knows this is the right decision. "What do you think?" He doesn't remember the last time he let anyone else have an opinion on his life; it feels good.

"Fuck yes," Ryan tells him, grabbing Spencer and hugging him. When he pulls back, he looks at Spencer closely. "If you're sure?"

Spencer nods. "I'm sure. Dad says there's this new music company that might hire me."

"Oh man, yeah," Ryan says. "They're awesome. Brendon's roommate Shane works for them, he can totally get you an in-" Ryan stops. "Assuming you've smoothed things over with Brendon?"

Spencer feels his grin grow wider. It probably looks ridiculous and he's afraid that he looks kind of like how he always teases Jon and Ryan for looking. Well not afraid exactly; they're pretty fucking happy, he thinks.

Ryan laughs at him. "You're so fucking smitten," he says. "Why the fuck are you dancing with me?"

Spencer rolls his eyes. "I had to tell you I was staying. Dumbass."

Ryan rolls his eyes but he still looks pleased.

***

"Hey, Spence."

Spencer turns to see Tom standing behind him. He doesn't let himself stiffen. "Hey."

It's getting dark and a lot of people have filtered off home. It's just what Spencer privately thinks of as core people left now. Crystal sitting on the grass with Ryan and Jon, someone's guitar across her lap as they try to teach her to play something; Spencer's parents, Jon's parents and Jon's grandma and Spencer's grandpa slow dancing in the middle of the room; and Jackie sitting to the side of the stage, staring at the keyboard player like he just might be Jesus.

"I'm gonna go," Tom tells him, pushing his bangs back out of his eyes. "Work called this morning to say they'd rearranged a shoot for tomorrow so I changed my flight."

"Okay. I-" Spencer just looks at him. He doesn't know what to say.

"So I guess," Tom starts to say then stops and laughs. "How the fuck am I supposed to say goodbye to you, Spencer Smith?"

Spencer shakes his head. He's not mad anymore and he knows this is for the best but he can't help the choked up feeling he's getting in his throat. "I love you," he says quickly. "I always did."

Tom nods. His eyes are wet. "Me too." He laughs again. It's forced but Spencer appreciates it. "It's not like we're never going to see each other again, right? Jon and Ryan won't let us get away with that shit. It'll be you and Brendon and me and… William and we'll be the best of friends."

"William?" Spencer asks.

Tom makes a face. "What? My imaginary boyfriend can totally be called William."

"Right," Spencer manages.

Tom smiles. "So Ryan says you're staying?" He doesn't sound exactly unhappy about it. "I'll pack up your shit and find you a remover if you want?"

Spencer nods. "Please."

"Okay," Tom says. They stand there, awkward. Spencer doesn't know if he should try for a hug or not. Then Tom's cell vibrates. "And I'm going," he says.

He leans in, gives Spencer a quick, clean hug, and moves swiftly through the crowd. Spencer lets himself watch until Tom's out of sight then puts it in a mental box marked done.

***

The band wind down after an hour or so and someone hooks up an old, vintage record player to the speakers and starts up The Beatles' White Album.

Brendon jumps down from the stage and shuffles up to where Spencer and the Cab's guitarist are standing by the bar. The guitarist's name is Ian, he's from Seattle, his hair is sort of terrifying and he blushes when he talks about his drummer so he probably didn't sleep with Tom that time.

Spencer knows he's a hypocrite for being pleased about that.

"Hey," Brendon says to Ian then a quieter, "Hi," for Spencer.

It's strange to see Brendon shy, but Spencer gets it. Whatever's happening with them feels really huge, yet they hardly even know each other.

Ian looks between them and laughs. "Oh man, you two are gonna be hilarious, aren't you?"

Brendon ducks his head and Spencer feels himself blush. Ian laughs again. Spencer thinks he might be evil.

"Right," Ian says, "So I'm gonna go over there and find Shane so we can mock you from afar."

Brendon gives him the finger and he runs off, laughing. "I have horrible friends," Brendon says sadly. "Yours are much nicer."

"Dude," Spencer says, "Mine are stoned and probably teaching my baby sister to play rude songs."

"Yes," Brendon agrees, snapping his fingers. "See? Way nicer."

Spencer laughs.

"So," Brendon says, hands in his pockets. "This is kind of more awkward than you'd expect considering we've already got the icky first time sex out of the way and have been sort-of dating for a week."

Spencer nods. "Yeah. It's not bad though?" he asks, because it's not. At least, he doesn't think it is.

Brendon shakes his head so fast, his hair flies out. "It's super," he says then makes a face. "Super? Huh, who _says_ that?"

Spencer fits his hands around Brendon's hips and tugs him forward. "You do," he says, kissing Brendon's cheek. Brendon sighs and puts his arms around his waist.

They're not dancing, not really, but they might be moving to the music just a little.

"Okay?" Brendon asks after a while. His head is on Spencer's shoulder.

"Yeah," Spencer says, "Yes." He really is.

/End


End file.
